The following is my translation of an article called: Kleine Mörder von Arno Marx. It appeared in a German popular science magazine, Kosmos Handweiser für Naturfreunde 1914, Heft 11, Seiten 468-471.
I'm not aware of any previous translation.
Trevor Dykes.

Small murderer by Arno Marx

Behind the old barn of the farmyard, at the outermost end of the village, lies a pile of stones that has been overgrown by a small forest of stinging nettles, deaf nettles and calandine. This was the favourite hunting ground of the Pomeranian hound, Spitz, when he was released each evening from the chain so he could search for rats, that had moved from the shed to the thicket of weeds along muddy ditches for safety, and to snack on waste brought along by the water. The dog races along with great leaps when let free, bounds into the weeds with excitement among the confusion of rats, or even catches one of the long-tailed rodents that had been shocked by the sudden appearance of the dog, and had not been quick enough to find a way to escape through the rustling grass.

One evening, the dog catches the scent of something different and strange, and it excites him so he has to search for it, but the sharp, sweet scent also makes him worry. The hairs on the neck of the dog stand up although he did not want them to; attracted and repelled at the same time, he examines the remarkable scent, which is different to that of rat and mouse, mole and hedgehog, which is from a new and perhaps a dangerous unknown animal. As he approaches nearer and nearer, he is met by poisonously high screams of a small, red-brown animal that leaps towards him with high, excited springs, showing no fear as it bounds towards the much larger dog, and it again screeches piercingly and, before Spitz knows whether he should bite or retreat, the brown thing is going for his nose. He gives thanks for this sudden bite with a cry as red blood runs over the lips (Lefzen). But Spitz is not so easy to bring to fear, and he had encountered bits on the nose from some tussles with rats and, therefore, he goes for the small, courageous attacker with angry cries. He presses it against the ground with his paw and wants to pulverise it with a quick bite, but his courage fails, he tears his mouth wide open, bounds back and whiningly races away stiff-tailed to his kennel, and rubs his eyes and nose in the straw. He then creeps out from his hiding place with cries of pain, rolls in the grass and acts with such unhappiness that his master notices and sympathetically tries to help the loyal sentry. But as the dog rubs its snout against the trouser leg of his master, he sniffs in surprise and quickly makes off, driven by the repulsive scent he has detected. But as the master enters his house, he notices that his suit smells very bad. He is forced to change his clothes and, only after much hanging on the line in the fresh air, will they lose the impregnated stench which was upon them.

Meanwhile, the large weasel had long gotten over the shock caused by the dog, and that had made him use his last line of defence, the stink glands. It slips into the pile of stones to its youngsters, licks its fur flat and suckles its young. It has peace from Spitz for a long time, it is sure of that; a dog that has once been acquainted with its weapons avoids it, unless it is very keen on its predatory raids. But the master of the dog does not know the location of the weasel's hiding place, otherwise he would have taken vengeance for the horrible smell of the suit. However, as he notices nothing more of the small predator, he soon forgets about it. He also does not wonder about the rats disappearing from his farmyard, or that there are almost no mice in the shed, and that the sparrows no longer make noises in the ivy of the farmhouse, that the poultry is shy of going to the food bowls and no longer do nonsense among the thorned berry bushes of the garden. They stay in through fear of the small predator in the stone pile behind the shed, that has scared the group of eaters away from their food bowls, hides among the bushes of the garden waiting to attack them, and even climbs up the ivy stem to disturb them during their night's sleep or attack them at the break of dawn. The water vole, that used to break into the herb bed to eat the young plants that were more preferred by it than parsley, to the disappointment of the owner, is no longer there. The ceiling of her tunnel caved in and this allowed light and air into her realm. She hurried by to quickly repair the damage, but her movements beneath the earth alerted the weasel of the Reutmaus's approach and, as its nose came into the light, the brown predator leapt at the throat. Before it could use its chisel-sharp rodent teeth, her life's juice was already running red and warm, and it shrieked as it gave itself up to the thief of her soul. The small murderer carried its still warm prey back to its tribe of young.

Like snakes, the eel-smooth rascals glide about between the stones, snarl, growl and nag and argue among themselves over the prey. They hurriedly chew and lick it until it goes cold, and then they lose all interest in it. Therefore, the mother is almost constantly hunting and soon carries in a mouse, and soon a rat, and then a young bird into the burrow until, within a few weeks, the hunting ground is fully exhausted. The weasel mother does inspect every mousehole and each corner in the barn for prey, she even climbs up the cracked trees to the starling nest boxes in order to fetch the cheeping nestlings despite the outcry of the adults; every hollow in the old apple trees in the garden is examined but, finally, her hunts are always in vain. Then, she leads the young down to the stream, and over the stone bridge on the edge of the field so as to hunt mouse and hamster in the Halmenwald (Additional note: some wood or forest), mole and young hare.

However, the hiding place left by the large weasel is so favourable, that it does not remain unoccupied for long. After a few weeks, a small weasel moves in and, as the harvest has already begun and some highly ladened harvest wagons have been brought to the barn, field and striped field mice have already moved in. Hunting in the farmyard is profitable again. The small weasel suffers from no shortage. It can follow the prey into the tightest of corners, the smooth, flexible body can be pushed into each mousehole; once the head is though a particularly narrow spot, then the rest of the body safely follows.

The mouse weasel is not shy, and it is not seldom that it allows itself to be watched during its hunts, as long as one simply stands quietly and does not disturb the day with unwelcome intrusion by getting all too close. With the pleasant expression of a rogue around the cute nose, with the lively glint of the eyes and attentively listening ears, the small weasel's front body slips out from the mousehole, which it had just investigated, stretches up straight so that it looks somewhat like a hare, smacks its lips and squeaks, comes completely out and, after two bounds, it disappears into the next mousehole. Shocked tweeting shows something stormy is taking place deep beneath the earth, and then a few mice in racing flight come out from the many entrances of the multi-branched mouse burrow, and move off in the greatest hurry to other burrows or to hide among clumps of grass. It's not long until their tormentor appears. Its red nose shows that it has already found prey, but its eagerness enables it to be recognised that its hunger has not been sated by the caught mouse. Keenly, it checks the ground with its small nose, soon finds the trail of its objective, and runs after the disappearing mouse down the next mousehole, murders a squeaking mouse, spends a short while with it and then, still eager and hungry, it pops up to find more prey. In mouse-rich years, a weasel can catch a dozen mice before laying itself down to sleep in a mousehole; it always takes just some of the blood and the tenderest flesh from its prey, and then chokes new victims before finally tiring from its rich bloody feast, and seeking peace for a short while.

This murder lust has always led one to lay accusations against the small predator, but it is precisely this tireless murder that makes it so useful for controlling mice. While it could never cause a mouse plague to disappear should one have come to flourish, it can stop the outbreak of such a plague or, at least, slow its spread. Unfortunately, many beat weasels to death because of their persecutions of song birds or simply for the fun of slaughter, should they be seen, and this is despite the useful actions they do, and these certainly outweigh the harm. But it is rated as a predator, as a blood-thirsty murderer, and one assumes it to be capable of terrible deeds. Its larger cousin is even more hated, and it is hunted regardless of whether it encounters the hunter in its brown summer costume or its ermine fur. Certainly, the large weasel also takes young hares as victims, and it does not spend long thinking before raiding young pheasants or the chicks of grouse should the mother not be near by. But, in return, it also holds rats in check, does not allow hamsters to emerge, and holds the upper hand on rabbits which, in sandy areas, reproduce so prodigiously that one must combat them with poison.

Even since Zell divided the mammalian kingdom into nose and eye-animals and, thereby, brought a truth long known by experts in an enlightening way to the general public, we all know precisely that nose-animals such as, for example, the dog and fox, follow their prey by the trail and more often chase than prowl to catch their victims while eye-animals, such as cats and relatives, hunt by prowling and ambushing. In order to follow a trail, a predator does not only require a good nose, but it must also be relatively fast; a trail can only be followed with quick running, especially when the animal being followed makes long bounds, the impressions of which are left at distance from one another, then the pursuer must hurry through the intervening areas so as not to lose the track. Only if very quick can the pursuer catch up with the hunted animal. While one can immediately recognise where the strengths of dogs and cats lie, rapid movement and a good nose in one case, quiet prowling on soft soles and good eyes in the other, that enable the precise measurement of a spring even in the dark, one does not known with the small weasel, the mouse weasel and stoat whether to regard them as prowling or pursuing predators, or whether they are more reliant upon their nose or sense of sight when chasing their prey. No sense appears to outweigh the other by much with weasels, and to have secured the mastery of the activities of the animal. It has not been rarely observed for the large weasel, that it follows rats into and under water, and it can certainly only dive after its prey by following its sense of sight. Then one sees the slim predator pursue a half-grown rabbit; for as long as the hunt goes across open land, the follower attempts to cut the path of its prey off, so it hunts "by eye", but among shrubs it immediately perceives the scent trails and follows those like a snuffling dog. Not rarely, the death cry of the rabbit or the rodent betrays it had relied upon an unsuccessful hiding place. But if the loud cry of the young sounds down from a strong branch, then the weasel relies upon its ears, climbs right up the trunk and raids the brood.

As long as the weasel can pursue its natural food then we can only be pleased by the versatility of its abilities, but it is different should the preferred rodents be absent. Then their hunger drives them to attack stronger prey. Oh dear, should one break into a poorly maintained chicken stall! Then, it is not unusual for them to overpower all chickens that give themselves away through movement, as long as life is within them. Not rarely, their anger knows of no restraint at all, and they may even attack adult hares and the calves of deer. How long a small predator must starve before its courage is so great, that it will even attack such comparatively gigantic prey, is something that no observer has been able to conclude upon.

An index of more of my translations of old Kosmos articles can be found at:

Kosmos Translations Archive
kosmostranslations.htm

A number of Mesozoic (and post-Mesozoic) location summaries can be found at Localities.